


Like Flowers We Grow

by rixsig-writes (rixsig)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, LetJaeheeHaveHerCoffeeshop2017, M/M, Zen is into him instantly and Yoosung is Confused, copious amounts of flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixsig/pseuds/rixsig-writes
Summary: Yoosung only meant to work at the flowershop for long enough to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, but now he's been there so long he could leave his life on auto-pilot if he wants to. He wants a change, he's just not expecting that change to be meeting Zen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> me: it'll be a short flowershop au it'll be a little one-shot, it'll be easy, it'll be fun  
> me at me: make it Long

It’s a calm weekday in autumn just as the afternoon turns mellow and gold that Yoosung finds himself standing in the slice of sunlight coming in through the flowershop window, struck with the thought that he has no idea what he’s doing with his life. This revelation comes on the heels of a long, slow day of boredom and basic upkeep, dusting shelves, and making arrangements. Normally on days like this Yoosung has his mp3 player to help ease the monotony, but he trashed his only pair of earbuds last night by accidentally leaving them in the wash and now he has absolutely nothing to distract him from his thoughts, which are these:

One, he’s been working here for the past two years since he graduated high school and absolutely nothing has changed for him since then. Two, this includes his love life. And three, he keeps forgetting to keep up with his hair and his dye job is growing out. Again. And his haircut is growing out. Again.

Yoosung sighs and fiddles with his apron. When Jaehee had first asked him if he wanted to work at the small, little flowershop she was opening Yoosung thought it sounded like a great part-time job opportunity but somehow he landed a regular 9-5 job instead. And he just...never left. Now every monday through friday he wakes up, works here, and goes home like clockwork. A never-ending, never-ceasing routine. He sighs again and settles behind the counter, looking over his little one-room universe, waiting for someone, anyone to stop by.

He’s not expecting many customers until close, or well, any, but when Rika comes in that day to buy a dozen roses it's not that unusual. Well, maybe the choice of flower is—she's always preferred sunflowers to anything else—but she tends to come in at least once a week to pay Yoosung a visit at work and get a little something to brighten her room. It's after a week or so passes—another long week of more introspection than Yoosung cares to deal with— when she glides through the front door dragging a tall, silver-haired man behind her that things get weird.

"Um," Yoosung hops up with surprise from behind the counter at the sound of the bell, "W-welcome!"

"Yoosung!" Rika calls happily, "You don't need to rush over. I'm just showing Zen around. He really liked those roses from last time!"

"Wait..." Yoosung's mind races as he looks the man up and down. She got roses for _this_ guy? Seriously? But what about—?

"Not like that," She laughs, reading him instantly, "They were for his performance!"

The man takes that as his cue to step forward and flip his hair over his shoulder with a grin, "Zen, dedicated actor at your service."

Yoosung nods automatically. "H-hi! I'm Yoosung, uh, a florist! For now."

He can’t help but give the man a once-over again. He almost looks familiar, but he can’t pinpoint why...

"He does musicals," Rika says, eyes sparkling, "He's very good. Absolutely inspiring. I'm so glad V and I decided to go."

Oh! This is that same actor that Jaehee has all those DVDs of. Yoosung’s still managed to avoid watching one, but it’s impossible to associate with Jaehee and not have a vague awareness of what the guy looks like. Trust Rika to somehow make instant friends with an actor she’s come to admire. She's always had such a unique way of connecting to everyone she meets. It never ceases to amaze Yoosung.

"I'm glad you did too, beautiful lady," Zen winks. Yoosung's instant urge to deck him is derailed when Zen's gaze turns toward him. The full force of it hits Yoosung and he can’t help but think that the weight of those eyes is grossly unfair. "You own this place?"

“U-uh, sort of!” Yoosung refuses to break eye-contact. He refuses. No matter how overwhelmingly attractive he suddenly realizes this guy is. “I guess I co-own it now, technically.”

“With Jaehee,” Rika pipes in, “Remember, the one I told you about who’s such a big fan of yours? We’ll stop by her coffeeshop next door after this so I can introduce you two. She’ll be over the moon to meet you.”

“I’m sure any friend of yours will be great,” Zen says, tilting his head in acknowledgement, but his eyes don’t stray from Yoosung’s. Yoosung’s nervous heart picks up speed and starts to beat with something more than mere nervousness. Is it just him, or is this guy paying way more attention to him than he should be? Yoosung glances at Rika, flustered, but she offers him nothing in return except a vague smile.

“I’ll, uh, let you guys look around then while I tally up inventory, is that okay?” Yoosung says, “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Zen is about to say something, but Rika takes him by the elbow and directs him to the corner of the store furthest from the counter before he can utter a word throwing a relaxed, “Don’t worry about us!” behind her.

Yoosung does his best not to, picking up a clipboard with the long list of items he needs to count and heading to the rotating display of seed packets to check them over first. Five, six, eight, ten, twelve...wait. How many daisy seeds again? Yoosung shakes his head and re-counts. Usually inventory is pretty mindless but he can’t seem to concentrate. His head is all mixed up.

He sneaks a peek at the far corner by the window and sees Rika and Zen bending over the shelf holding the succulents, chatting freely. They look thick as thieves already. When did they meet? Last week? Last month? Yoosung realizes his gaze is lingering on the curve of Zen’s jaw and he flips back to the seeds display with a red face.

It’s not like no one has ever flirted with him before. I-if that even _was_ flirting. Yeah, true, most of the clientele he gets here tend to be old ladies and middle-aged men getting presents for their wives, but every once in awhile he sees a person in his age group! And Yoosung’s cute. He knows that for a fact. And he isn’t afraid of using that fact against all of his friends either, but with somebody who maybe seems to be the tiniest bit interested in him like this…?

Although really, the main issue is that he’s never wanted to flirt _back_ before. Not for real.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring again until Zen casts a look over his shoulder and their eyes meet. Yoosung raises his clipboard and hides behind it by reflex before he can see Zen’s reaction. But Zen looked back. He definitely looked back. Did he look back because he’s interested or because he felt Yoosung staring?

Oh, what is he thinking, oh my god. He literally met this guy a couple minutes ago is he really that desperate to drool so hard over a complete stranger? Zen’s an actor too, and apparently a good one; he probably gets people going after him all the time. He doesn’t need some weirdo guy who rots away in a flowershop all day reading way too much into everything.

He applies himself twice as hard into tallying up the seed packets and manages to get everything sorted out by sheer force of will. When he finally looks up from his clipboard he’s completely unprepared to see Rika’s face right there. She smiles fondly at him when he yelps.

“Rika?” Yoosung blinks, “Are you guys done? Where’s…?”

Rika shifts to the side so he can have a view of Zen closely examining a bouquet with heliopsis flowers. Yoosung flinches when the guy almost accidentally topples the vase over, but Zen saves it at the last second. Yoosung already broke a vase himself yesterday, it would be a shame to have to write off another loss so soon. His idle thoughts grind to a halt when he senses Rika staring at him expectantly.

“What?” He asks.

“Have you noticed yet?”

“Noticed what?” He takes another peak at Zen who’s now moved on to the turtleheads. He really is looking at everything very closely…

Rika shakes her head, looking wistful. “If you don’t see it yourself, you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“W-what? What does that mean? See _what_ myself?”

“...”

Every once in a while Rika will get cryptic like this and there’s nothing else to do but to let the moment pass. He’s tried to press for answers before, but Rika can brush him off like nothing with a placid face, and he tries to save his battles for when he can tell something’s really bothering her instead. He lets it go, but that doesn’t mean he has to let it go gracefully. He pouts, crossing his arms. His clipboard digs into his side like this but he stubbornly ignores it for maximum pouting power.

“He’s attractive, isn’t he?” Rika says, apropos of nothing.

“What?!” Yoosung blurts, dropping his clipboard on his foot. Zen looks back, startled at the noise, but Yoosung waves him off with a strained smile. He picks his clipboard back up and turns his attention to flattening the corners of the papers that got creased.

“You keep looking at him and blushing.”

“Well yeah,” Yoosung hisses under his breath, “Have you _seen_ him?”

“Don’t you want to try talking to him?” She prods.

Yes. No. Yesnoyes. No, but also yes. A lot yes.

“Do you really think I should?? What would I even say??” Yoosung whispers. By force of habit he lifts a hand to mess with his hoodie strings and has to realize for the billionth time that he doesn’t wear a hoodie when he’s on shift. “What does he even like?”

“Acting, the gym, beer, his motorcycle,” She pauses, watching him slump, “...and romance movies.”

Yoosung perks up. He likes romance movies! Not that he should bring up romance movies the first time he tries to flirt with someone, oh my god. That would probably be awful.

Rika laughs softly. “Just talk to him about flowers. He looks interested enough, doesn’t he?”

Zen’s moved on to look at the potted iberis with equal fascination, and Yoosung has to admit that Rika’s right. He just has to...go over there. And strike up a conversation about the flowers he’s looking at. Easy. Yoosung knows a lot about flowers. He distractedly hands Rika his clipboard and marches over there, heart pounding and palms sweaty. He’s doing this. He’s doing this.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Yoosung says. He cringes at himself. He’d slap himself in the face if he could—why is he defaulting to customer service mode?—but Zen just straightens up, smiling at him.

“Just browsing,” Zen says, “I want to buy something but I’m not sure what yet.”

Less formal, less formal. “Well, uh, um, those ones are nice. Pretty! R-really good for putting in your yard...” Shit, he went too far the other way and now he just sounds dumb, fix it, fix it, fix it, “They...they bloom twice a year and can grow to be about thirty centimeters! It says iberis on the plaque but a lot of people call them candytufts instead.”

“Oh,” Zen says, “I don’t have a yard.”

Wow, abject failure. Yoosung tries to think of something to say in response, but comes up with nothing.

“But,” Zen continues, “If I did these would be perfect. Only the most beautiful yard for the most beautiful man, right?”

Wait...what? What did he just…?

Yoosung feels his own face freeze in a dubious expression for a long, hanging second, and then all the nervousness and tension and weirdness he’s been feeling in the past twenty minutes snaps in half and forcefully exits him in the form of raucous laughter. He bends at the waist and laughs so hard he starts wheezing, flailing blindly for a shelf to brace himself on. At the edges of his blurry vision he sees Zen’s hands raise awkwardly, and in this state that strikes him as even funnier so Yoosung just keeps on laughing.

“A-uh, Yoosung? What—Are you okay? Hey, is he okay?”

 _Oh yeah,_ Yoosung remembers, _Rika’s still in the store isn’t she, probably watching this whole trainwreck._ Yoosung finally calms down just enough to lift his head and blink the tears from his eyes, but he’s still beset by a chain of trailing giggles. Zen looks so confused. And he’s blushing. Yoosung should be embarrassed by this but instead he just notices how Zen doesn’t look nearly so put-together and perfect and untouchable anymore.

“I—haha—I’m fine! R-really, just, oh my god…” Yoosung breaks off into another giggle fit, “I j-just wasn’t expecting you to say that. Do you brag about yourself to everyone like that or am I special?”

“Hey!” Zen looks offended but he can’t quite keep an edge of amusement from his own face either, “I don’t brag. I work hard to maintain the beauty I have. I’m allowed to appreciate it.”

“But the _most_ beautiful man? In the whole world?” Yoosung challenges.

“Think of one better.” Zen says, arching a brow.

“W-what, right now??”

“Can’t do it?” Zen grins, “If I’m not the most beautiful shouldn’t it be easy?”

“It’s not like I keep a list!” Yoosung exclaims, “I can’t just say one off the top of my head!”

“So I’m beautiful enough that you have to go on a search for someone that could beat me?”

Yoosung rolls his eyes. “There’s got to be another actor or model or someone somewhere.”

“Alright,” Zen says, propping an elbow on a shelf and leaning in, “How about you look them up sometime and get back to me.”

 _Get back to him?_ Yoosung wonders, but before he can state his confusion Zen is already changing the topic.

“Ah, what about these?” Zen’s eyes brighten, looking at something on the far side of the shelf, “Tell me about these these ones.”

Yoosung turns his head, spots the red flowers Zen is looking at with such admiration, and slaps his hand over his face to prevent himself from guffawing loudly.

“What?” Zen says, flummoxed, “What did I even say this time?”

“Read the namecard, read it, read it!” Yoosung chants, his smile turning devilish under his hand.

Zen leans forward, squinting at the card. “Adonis...aestivalis and—?”

“A-adonis flowers,” Yoosung wheezes, “You like the adonis flowers.”

Zen blinks, wide-eyed for a second, then snickers, picking up the bouquet and posing dramatically with it over his shoulder, little drops of water falling from the ends of the flower stems, “Doesn’t it suit me? I can be an Adonis for you.”

“Uh-huh, r-red is a good color for you,” Yoosung snorts, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Zen moves the bouquet next to Yoosung’s face. “Not a bad color for you either, Aphrodite,” He murmurs teasingly.

 _Oh yeah that’s right,_ Yoosung’s face floods with a blush, _this guy makes me nervous._ His knees quiver a little but it’s not nearly as bad as before. With Zen looking at him this way, like his stuttering and overearnestness and riotous laughter have somehow been endearing, Yoosung finds his panic and self-doubt flying further away from him. Besides, it’s a little hard to be too nervous of someone when they’re weird enough to call you Aphrodite, right?

“Um,” Yoosung says.

Zen takes mercy on him and draws the bouquet back. “I’ll take this one,” he decides.

“Are you sure?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

Yoosung gently pulls the bouquet from Zen’s hands into his own and gazes down at it. “It’s almost a sad arrangement. Well, not sad exactly. I guess melancholy would be the right word?” He touches one of the flowers with a delicate hand. “Adonis is for sad memories. Um, that’s what it stands for, I mean. The anemone’s for anticipation. I’d probably give it to someone trying to move on or someone trying to move forward.”

“I’ll take it,” Zen repeats.

Yoosung can’t help but wonder what that implies, if that’s even implying something at all, but he has literally nothing to go off of. “Okay,” he says, turning and walking to the counter, “Do you need a vase? Here’s some plant food you can add to the water…”

He gets Zen squared away in no time and Rika emerges from the tiny backroom—the one that’s essentially just storage—with Yoosung’s clipboard in hand. “I’m done,” She announces.

“Done?” Yoosung asks. Realization strikes him and he yelps. “Rika! I wasn’t asking you to do my job for me!” He lunges from the counter and plucks the clipboard away, but when he flips through the pages everything is filled out already. “Noooooo, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“I wanted to,” She answers, “It didn’t take very long.”

Of course it wouldn’t take very long for her, she’s an organizing machine. She blows through paperwork almost as fast as Jumin can. Still. “Well I’m not letting you do anything else. I’m kicking you out.”

She frowns but acquiesces easily enough, to Yoosung’s great happiness. Too many things have happened in such a short amount of time. He’s gonna need at least three to five hours to process and freak out over everything in peace. He nearly slumps over sideways in relief on the countertop when Rika takes Zen’s elbow again and leads them both out the door.

After the two of them have finally left, Yoosung inhales deeply, exhales, picks up his broom, and begins to sweep. It’s the perfect meditative exercise for forgetting his fast-pounding heartbeat. Sweep, sweep, sweep. Step forward. Sweep, sweep, sweep. Either he’ll never see that guy again or Rika will try pulling him into their circle of friends, and no matter what ends up happening Yoosung needs to calm down. He lets himself get lost in the activity and by the time he’s gone through the entire shop he’s wound back down to something approaching normal. What a funny story though right? Maybe he’ll play it up later and tell his friends how a famous actor appeared in his store out of nowhere and gave him bedroom eyes.

And again, It’s not like he hasn’t been flirted with before. He has, by customers and delivery guys and neighbors both obvious and subtle, but it was always just light and meaningless to him. Something that was usually flattering and fun. An ego boost. A way to get free compliments. Why does everything seem so intense this time? What makes this one time different from any other one? It’s not like he knows this guy. Is this what it’s normally like to flirt with someone you’re actually interested in? _Is_ he actually interested in him?

The door opens, ringing its bell. Yoosung jumps.

“Hey,” Zen says, stepping in and letting the door swing shut behind him, “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by one last time today.”

Immediately Yoosung’s heart is back in his throat.

“N-no that’s fine,” Yoosung stows his broom away as an excuse not to look at him. Rika’s not here as a safety net anymore. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Why has she abandoned him this way? “Did you forget something?”

“No,” He says. Yoosung can hear the smile in his voice and it makes him shiver. Even his voice is attractive. “I just thought it would be a shame to get ourselves coffee and not bring you back any. Your cousin said this was your favorite.”

Yoosung feels Zen step closer and turns around to face him on autopilot, accepting the to-go cup and acutely feeling every inch of those small seconds when their fingers brush. Zen’s hand seems to linger longer than necessary but Yoosung can’t tell if that’s wishful thinking or not. It’s probably not, right? Is this a normal standing distance? Yoosung realizes they’re leaning toward each other and he pulls back, holding up his newly-acquired drink to his face as a distraction. He doesn’t know this guy he doesn’t know this guy he doesn’t know this guy—  

“Did she steer me wrong?” Zen asks, concerned.

Yoosung blinks and takes a long inhale of pumpkin spice, “No, this is good! That’s, uh, really nice of you, thanks.”

“Anytime,” He winks, “You’ll see me around.”

And then he leaves. Just like that.

Yoosung spends the rest of his shift in a daze. With all the inventory done and most of the cleaning done too there isn’t much left to take his mind of the day’s events. His brain replays those moments with Zen on repeat, over and over again, no matter how many times Yoosung tells himself it’s useless to obsess over it. _But he said he’d see you around,_ his mind says. _That doesn’t mean he actually will,_ he argues back. And a couple hours pass fruitlessly that way until Jaehee stumbles in fifteen minutes before close.

“I met Zen,” She mumbles, still in a state of shock. Yoosung empathizes deeply. “I met him. In real life. He greeted me. He said my name.”

She leans against the nearest wall and sticks her hand out. He hands her the clipboard. She flips through it more slowly than usual, but at least she still seems functional.

“Did he flirt with you too?” Yoosung asks.

“Wha—No, he just signed—excuse me, you said he flirted with you??”

Yoosung waves his arms around weakly. “Uh, no, I mean he just winked and…” _And stared at me and leaned close to me and got me coffee and called me Aphrodite…_

“Oh,” She says, “Yes, he does seems to be rather flirtatious that way I suppose.”

Jaehee finishes double-checking the inventory without commenting on most of it being in Rika’s handwriting, which is a real testament to how out of it she must be. Yoosung takes off his apron and starts turning off the lights. No use in staying open exactly on the dot on a night like this, and Yoosung’s exhausted.

“What did he sign?” Yoosung asks.

“My handkerchief.” Jaehee replies, entering the supply order in on her ipad. She looks up for a moment to spear him with a glance of sudden clarity, “How was your coffee?”

Yoosung’s spine goes rigid. “Ah, um. Good,” He squeaks.

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “Good. Don’t forget to recycle that cup. Or keep it. Or give it to me so I can keep it.”

Yoosung snatches the to-go cup up. The one or two sips of pumpkin spice latte swish around at the bottom, and he throws the cup back and drinks it even though it’s long grown cold by now. As he lowers the cup down again the cardboard sleeve slips and he notices something he was too shellshocked to notice before. There’s a number scrawled at the bottom of the sleeve in blue pen.

  
Zen’s number.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @rixsig_writes on twitter!


End file.
